


Zuko of the Masked Ones

by mavy1



Series: Zukka week 2020 [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masquerade, Zukka week 2020, masked ones au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:01:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22351516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mavy1/pseuds/mavy1
Summary: zukka week day two - masqueradeWhen Zuko is framed for the murder of his cousin, the crown prince, he must flee his home or lose his life. He finds help and salvation through the care of an unlikely stranger.A Masked Ones zukka au
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Zukka week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1608226
Comments: 21
Kudos: 179





	Zuko of the Masked Ones

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! This au is based off of the story Ballum of the Masked Ones from the book Tales of Deltora. The story goes that the younger brother of the king, Ballum, was a very popular performer, and was beloved by the people of Deltora's capital city, Del, and by the king himself. The king's chief adviser, however, unknown to Ballum or his brother, was a corrupt agent of the enemy, and hated Ballum for always foiling her plans to weaken the kingdom. She framed him for his brothers attempted murder, an event that permanently scarred his face, forcing him to flee the palace and don a mask to hide his ruined face. Eventually, others decided to join him in his travels, and they too wore masks to confuse any potential attackers. The troupe eventually became legendary performers, continuing long after the death of their leader and founder.
> 
> I thought the context which I took this from might help you enjoy the story more, though it's certainly not 100% necessary to be comprehensible.

Zuko’s mad dash from the palace of Del that he had always called home was driven not by careful thought, nor even the need for safety or any sense of self preservation. It was only the searing, biting pain of his flesh that drove him onward. Drove him mad. His heart pumping the heady intoxication of adrenaline into his bloodstream he stumbled on through the dusk and into night, his lungs burning almost as much as his ruined skin as he gasped for air.

Later he wouldn’t remember that half-sprint, half-crawl that took him from the familiar cobbled streets through the city gates and into the wilderness beyond. His blighted mind knew enough to keep him from the roads and trails, but it could offer him little other aid. The sounds of the pursuing palace guard may have been imagined, though the possibility they were not was all too real. So, he staggered on.

When his shock began to wear off, his body spent, his legs gave way beneath him. Still he crawled on, though it bloodied his hands and knees, and the agony he felt now bit nearly to the bone. Time only made a mockery of his plight, the blackness of night seeming to drag endlessly. When, finally, the first whispers of dawn did touch his wrecked face, he raised what remained of it to see the faint glow of the sunrise touch the hills far beyond his reach, painting them a faint golden hue beneath the silver of the fog. He felt his mind begin to slip. Closing his eyes, he thought that if this was the last sight he was to see, then at least it had been a good one. Then came the blackness. And he knew no more.

* * *

When Zuko woke it was to the ache of every bone in his body and a head that felt stuffed with cloth. Slowly he became aware of the soft light around him, and a fresh, earthy smell that filling his nose. He raised a hand – which has been cleaned and bandaged – to his face, letting his fingers graze his burned but strangely numb cheek. They came away smeared with a pale green paste. Zuko thought he should feel alarmed, but he couldn’t muster anything beyond a dull fascination. He began to raise his hand again, but was interrupted by a voice, low and close, but firm.

“Don’t touch.” Zuko’s neck strained against the pain to find its source, making out little more than a vague figure in the low light. “I’ve nearly finished.”

The figure leaned closer, and Zuko saw brown skin and dark hair pulled into a messy top-knot, and striking blue eyes which did not meet his gaze, but rather focused intently on their work as the stranger bandaged Zuko’s face and neck.

“You’re lucky I decided to travel this way.” He said. “A few more hours out here, and you would surely be dead.”

“Or worse,” he added with a cold laugh, “you might actually have made it to the hills, and then you would really have been in trouble.”

The strange man moved away, settling himself by a small fire just beyond the cover of the crude shelter Zuko lay under. Fragrant steam rose from the pot he stirred, and for a while all was silent save the quiet crackling of the fire.

Eventually, the stranger returned, leaving the pot to simmer over the fire, and spoke to Zuko.

“I know you, don’t I?” Zuko didn’t respond, but he continued anyways. “I’ve seen you performing on the streets of Del. It’s maddening how much the people there adore you.” Zuko wondered vaguely why that would be upsetting to him. It occurred to him that, whatever the people had thought before, by now their minds would surely have been changed.

“But then again, they should, shouldn’t they?” Zuko caught his shrewd smile, and the spark in his eyes. _He knows who I am_ , he thought. But nothing more is said.

Once the pot began to boil the stranger removed it from its place on the fire. He helped Zuko to sit up, and sat the pot of soup next to his bed. Zuko tried to take the bowl and spoon from him, but his arms were sore and tired, and his hands clumsy.

“Ah, ah!” He pulled the bowl swiftly from Zuko’s reach. “I am at your service, your highness.”

So, he did know. So be it. It made little difference.

Zuko allowed him to help him eat, though it hurt his pride somewhat. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do it on his own, and once he began eating, he realized just how weak his hunger has made him. It was nothing special, but it was warm and hearty, and Zuko was grateful.

Once he had finished, Zuko’s mind began to turn hazy. He wanted to thank this man, to warn him at least, and there were so many questions that needed to be answered. But he couldn’t seem to find his voice or the words for any of it.

“Don’t worry.” He must have noticed Zuko’s sudden distress. “As long as you’re with me, the guard won’t find you. Whatever else, we can deal with later, when you’ve healed.”

So, he knew of the danger. He knew Zuko was being pursued, and yet he still offered help so readily. Zuko was only growing more curious about him, but having been fed and cared for, he felt himself slipping once again into the waiting arms of the black unconsciousness.

“Who – Who are you?” He felt himself croak the words, but his voice sounded foreign.

As his eyes slide shut, Zuko heard his voice, far from his own delirious mind as it slips into dream, “my name is Sokka. Don’t worry. You can trust me.”

* * *

For weeks, Zuko hovered somewhere between weak consciousness and fevered sleep. Under Sokka’s care he did grow stronger. His trust in Sokka grew strong also, though he knew little about him. It had to. If Sokka had wanted him dead, he had ample opportunity to see it so, but instead he played nursemaid to him through many nights of terrible pain and fitful rambling. What Sokka hoped to gain from this arrangement was unclear, yet still he stayed. So, Zuko trusted him.

When he had healed somewhat, and could remain lucid long enough to do so, Zuko told Sokka all he can remember of the night he fled the palace. The actual journey is of little importance, which is good considering Zuko had hardly a memory of it. But that he had tried to perform a trick for the crown prince, his cousin Lu Ten’s birthday, that it had gone horribly wrong – that he could not forget. He would never forget the look of pain and fear on his face as the life ebbed from his cousin’s eyes. The agony of his own burning flesh. The screams of his family.

His father had called him traitor. Assassin. Called for his execution for treason. Called for the guards. And Zuko had fled.

There must have been confusion at the palace. It was the only way to explain his escape. Being ordered to capture the boy who was once the prince, a bit awkward and strange perhaps but always friendly, always kind, must not have been believed at first. Or, perhaps, they had hesitated to follow it. But either way, Zuko would never again be safe in Del. That much he knew. He could never return home.

He couldn’t explain it. There should have been no danger in what he had planned. Even if the trick he performed had gone wrong, it should not have ended as it did. Zuko would never endanger someone’s life simply for entertainment. And yet it had.

And now his cousin was dead. And he had been driven away. Even as Zuko mourned for his family, he can not help but think of the future of the land he so loves. For now, once his uncle passed, it was his sister who will take the throne. While he loved her dearly, under their father’s influence, he shuddered to think what kind of queen she would be.

“Well that’s the problem with monarchy, I guess,” Sokka had said. “It’s true your great-grandfather was a great man, but not everyone can be the type to inspire seven rival tribes to come together for the common good. And who knows how your family is going to turn out.”

Zuko couldn’t argue with that.

“What about you? What’s your family like?” Zuko had to admit he was curious about Sokka. He had known many of the ordinary people of Del, but he had never known anyone like Sokka. And besides, he would welcome the reprieve from thinking about his own family troubles.

“Well none of them ever burned or framed me for murder. So, I’d say they’re a good deal better than yours.” Sokka replied.

“That’s not what happened!” Zuko snapped.

Sokka merely shrugged. “Alright, if you say so.” But he didn’t sound convinced. If Zuko was honest with himself, he had to admit – he wasn’t either.

Sokka seemed to sense he’d crossed a line.

“My father is from Del.” He offered. “Now he sails the southern seas, though he didn’t always.”

“He’s a trader?” Sokka nodded.

“My mother was native to the Mere tribe. That’s how they met. My father used to trade in Rithmere.” Oh. That explained it. No one of Del had such striking blue eyes.

“My father used to take us with him, when we were young. But I have no stomach for the seas. And anyways, there’s more business to be had with my feet firmly planted on the ground, as I’m sure you know.”

“You’re a performer?” That would explain why Zuko’s apparent popularity had annoyed him, if he saw if as competition.

Sokka nodded again. “I try my best. It’s not quite the same as what you do. I’m an acrobat.”

Zuko never would have expected that, but looking at Sokka then, he didn’t have a hard time believing it. He certainly looked strong enough.

“So much for keeping your feet on the ground.” Sokka laughed warmly at that, and Zuko found himself quite proud of being the reason for such a lovely sound, and a small smile on his face for the first time in weeks.

“Zuko, I want to be honest with you.” Sokka ventured. He was clearly nervous, but considering Zuko owed him his life quite literally, he couldn’t imagine anything Sokka could tell him should be cause for alarm.

“I didn’t find you out here by accident. I saw you leave the city that night. I didn’t know why, but I could tell you were in trouble. So… I followed you.”

Zuko was surprised, but less at the idea that Sokka didn’t magically stumble upon him in the wilderness, and more that anyone had been concerned enough to follow a complete stranger so far from the safety and comfort of their own home to begin with. The revelation stunned Zuko into silence.

“Why?” was all he could manage after a moment.

“Zuko I swear, my intentions were good, I – “

“No, I mean, yeah, that much is fairly obvious Sokka. I just mean… Why would you _care?_ You don’t even know me.”

Sokka huffed a laugh, an odd kind of knowing smile on his face, more at ease now that Zuko knew the truth, and seemed rather unbothered by it.

“No, _you_ don’t know _me_.” He insisted. “All the people of Del know you Zuko. And not just as a performer. Or a prince. They know your kindness, your generosity, they know who you are and who you _choose_ to be. Of all the members of your family, Zuko, you are the one who fulfils your great-grandfather’s legacy the most.”

Sokka’s emphatic assurance was touching, and again Zuko found himself momentarily moved beyond words.

“That still doesn’t explain why…”

“Because - Because you have a kind soul. Because I’ve always seen you around, offering your own help so freely. I thought that was something you could use. Something I could do for you.”

Zuko didn’t miss the proclamation of Sokka’s purpose, or the implication that _Sokka_ was the one who should fulfill that purpose, but he knew of no good way to respond to such an honest admission.

“And besides,” Sokka continued, “even if I didn’t know you before, I do now. You can only care for someone for so long before you just… know.”

That much, at least, Zuko could agree on. He was certain no one in his pervious life had known him half as well as Sokka now did, after little more than a month together. Even if it was due only to his unescapable feverish ramblings.

And, he thought, he was beginning to know Sokka too. The really important things, at least.

Sokka set to carefully unwinding the bandages from Zuko’s hands. The scabs that covered his wounds had cleared a few days ago, but Sokka had insisted on being what was, in Zuko’s mind, overly cautious, and keeping the delicate skin safely wrapped for at least a few more days. As he did his work, Sokka drew his fingertips gently across Zuko’s palm, over the fresh scar tissue that now marked it, flattening out his fingers, letting the pads of his own linger against the tips of Zuko’s. Zuko watched him all the while, completely captivated. He was sure no one had ever been so gentle with him.

When he looked up, Zuko found Sokka quite close to him. Close enough to smell the smoke that clung to his hair and skin. For a moment, Zuko marveled that Sokka’s closeness caused him no discomfort. Then, Sokka looked up at him, fixing him with the full gaze of his mysterious blue eyes.

Only, they weren’t so mysterious anymore. So close that Zuko could see their tiny flecks of gold, the dark ring around their irises, all Zuko could read was utter vulnerability. Sokka had read Zuko’s heart, without him even knowing it. Now he was showing him his in return.

Zuko wanted to lean closer. He wanted _something_ , only he didn’t know what. All he could do was sit there, offering Sokka nothing more than a small but genuine smile.

And Sokka asked nothing more of him. He only raised Zuko’s palm to him lips, kissing him slow and soft. Zuko watched his eyes flutter shut and a beat later, his own did the same.

When Sokka returned Zuko’s hand to his lap, his hands linger there, fingertips pressed against the back of his hand, thumbs resting in his palm. Zuko was a little surprised at how much he enjoyed their offered heat and pressure. But only a little.

“Zuko…” Sokka began at length, “before all of this, I had planned to visit my sister in Rithmere. But, I could change that, travel north with you instead, where you’ll be safer. If you like.”

Sokka’s eyes still held the same vulnerability, but this time they possessed a poorly disguised sense of urgency too. Zuko wanted to consider Sokka’s offer. He wanted it desperately. But he knew better.

“No Sokka. I can’t” He replied dejectedly. “I can’t ask that of you.”

Sokka nodded. His eyes shone with hurt, but he didn’t protest.

“Okay.” He murmured. “Okay.”

* * *

To prepare Zuko for his journey, Sokka had given him all the supplies he could spare, and likely some he couldn’t, along with a map and instructions to travel as far north as be could. In the northern mountains there would be towns where he could find work, and with any luck, safety. Experience had taught Sokka that these places didn’t tend to attract the highest quality of citizens, and he doubted anyone there wanted any extra attention from the law.

Still, Sokka was hesitant to leave him, delaying his departure for days. Though he claimed Zuko needed further treatment, Zuko knew there was little more he could do for him.

“It’s not too late to change your mind,” Sokka pleaded with him on the day when finally Zuko could no longer be persuaded to stay. “I could still go with you. I know I could be of use.”

Sokka had made his affection for Zuko achingly clear, and Zuko knew he felt much the same. It was why seeing him so distraught, the wounded and desperate look of creased brows and slight frown, pained him all the more. And it was why he had to do as he was.

“And I know that there’s great compassion hidden behind those pretty blue eyes of yours. I know your lips are soft against my wounds. I know that I owe my life to you. And that if they find us together, and that you’ve been helping me, they’ll kill you and make me watch.”

Zuko stepped closer, tucking a wind-blown strand of hair behind Sokka’s ear, taking his time letting his hand fall away.

“The least I can do to thank you, is to not let that happen.”

Sokka nodded in acknowledgment, averting his gaze as Zuko turned to leave. It took a great deal of strength for him not to turn back for one final look, but he managed it. And so, he had no idea if Sokka watched him disappear over the horizon, or if he simply turned west without another thought.

* * *

The journey to the mountains had not been an easy one. Not only had Zuko’s delicate condition slowed him, but soldiers dotted the roads along his way, asking all travellers they met if they had seen the traitor prince. For this reason, he was forced to avoid any roads or trails where he might be seen, keeping instead to the treacherous hills and forest wilds.

When finally he saw the mountain silhouettes rising in the distance like points of great black glass marking the edge of his own kingdom, weeks had passed.

He knew the northern wilds were rather sparsely populated, save for the towns that dotted the northern-most trade routes, but he also knew the people there would certainly recognize him. Not as the prince he had been, perhaps, but he had heard soldiers instructing them to keep watch for a man who had been badly burned. Though he did not know the full extent of the damage his injuries had caused, he could tell well enough that it was quite severe. If what they were looking for was burns, they would certainly find him. He would have to find a way to hide his face, if he was to stay here. Or anywhere.

So, Zuko made for himself a mask in the shape of a dragon’s face, with shades of rich vermillion, amber, and gold, and wore it always. To the people of the north it only added to his mysterious quality when he appeared in their towns, singing and performing tricks with flame and magic the likes of which they had never seen before, and he earned a modest living through their fascination and amusement.

Soon enough his popularity attracted the attention of other travelling entertainers, who at first sought only to profit off of his own success by following where he travelled, taking advantage of his reputation in these small towns. Eventually though, travelling in their small group for safer passage their attachment to one another grew, and their respect and reverence for Zuko grew also as stories of his good nature followed just as closely behind him as they did wherever he went. Zuko, however, was wary of this, having nearly had his identity revealed on several occasions, and not wanting to endanger anyone but himself.

So, he travelled often, trying his best to stay ahead of his past, and his future.

It was on one of his visits to Shadowgate when he was to finally stop running. He had become accustomed to the small crowds that would gather in streets and town squares upon his arrival, but he had never before recognized someone in them beyond vague recollection. This time, however, when he surveyed the crowd at his first performance, he noticed an unmistakable pair of blue eyes looking back into his own

Zuko couldn’t help himself. It had been a few years now since he had last seen Sokka, but Zuko felt drawn to him just the same. Perhaps he did show off a little more than usual. Perhaps he did choose Sokka out of the crowd to assist with his illusions. But it was of little consequence. Zuko knew that he had to do whatever he could to avoid Sokka after this, even if it meant leaving town almost as soon as he had arrived.

When he had finished his performance and collected his audience’s generous reward he slipped from the town under cover of night into the surrounding mountains. There he had made his camp, knowing that even the most curious townsfolk would not brave them to follow him. But as he was packing up his camp, he heard a quiet clattering of stones signalling the approach of just such a stranger.

As they drew closer, Zuko readied himself pressed against the cliff face, and as they rounded the corner nearest him, he dashed forward swiftly, pressing the flat of his blade up against their throat.

“Wow hey, take it easy!” Sokka cried, raising his hands in surrender, showing himself to be unarmed. “Maybe don’t try and kill the person who saved your life, huh?”

Zuko stumbled back quickly, searching Sokka’s face for any sign that he was not certain. But Sokka had not asked for confirmation of his declaration, and Zuko knew he could not refute it.

“How – How did you know it was me?” Zuko saw Sokka’s gaze shift to his scarred palms, and he clenched his fists quickly, cursing his own clumsy foolishness.

“Let’s just say I can recognize my own handiwork.” Zuko nodded slightly in acknowledgement, and not finding anything else to do, he simply settled himself beside what remained of his campfire, motioning for Sokka to join him. Sokka eyed his half-packed bag and empty tent.

“Leaving so soon?” he probed gently.

“I had planned to. Before you could discover who I really was. Though I suppose there’s little point in that now.”

It was clear he had no intention of leaving Zuko to himself, so Zuko set to unpacking a kettle and a few cups from his pack, pouring water and placing it over the fire for tea. They didn’t speak immediately, but Sokka watched Zuko closely, and surveyed his camp with concern.

“Zuko.” He murmured. “Have you really been alone all this time?”

Zuko looked up, meeting those remarkable blue eyes, where the ache and sorrow was easily read.

“Yes.” Zuko replied.

Sokka moved closer beside him, and Zuko watched the light of the small fire paint patterns on his soft brown skin. Sokka raised a hand to Zuko’s face, but hesitated just before it touched the mask.

“Is it alright if I -?”

Zuko nodded, and Sokka pulled the large mask carefully from his head. Zuko wasn’t sure if Sokka knew he was the first person to see Zuko’s ruined face. But Zuko knew. And it didn’t matter much, since Sokka looked at his bare face with such adoration it was as if the scars weren’t there at all.

Sokka ran gentle fingers over Zuko’s cheek and jaw, ghosting them over his throat and slipping them behind his neck, holding firmly there. He met Zuko’s eyes, and grinned warmly.

“Not bad. If I do say so myself.” He mused.

Zuko thought of the long weeks of careful attention Sokka had given to his recovery, and smiled. Not bad indeed.

Sokka dropped his hands to Zuko’s lap, taking his hand and rubbing gentle circles against the inside of Zuko’s wrist.

“Why do you travel alone, Zuko? I know there are many in these parts who admire you, and would be honoured just to be with you.”

Zuko thought on the battalions he occasionally saw stationed in these parts. Bored of many long days without incident, they would be swift to pounce if they suspected who he really was. And Zuko knew them to be ruthless, and that they would not discriminate between their target and any collateral damage.

“I don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of my past, Sokka. I could never ask that of them.”

Sokka smiled sadly, his woeful sigh just audible over the slight evening breeze. “I know. But why don’t you just tell them the truth, and let them decide for themselves what they’re willing to risk? Then, at least, they could make a decision, one way or the other, and be done with it.”

Zuko had to admit that the prospect of no longer being alone was enticing, or at the very least the idea of no longer being followed from town to town by packs of people with no concept of the danger this might put them in was appealing. Still, he feared what they might say if they knew. And to whom.

“You knew the truth.”

“Mmm.” Sokka hummed. “And you still wouldn’t let me make my own choice. You still aren’t”

Zuko was rather taken aback, realizing suddenly what Sokka was proposing.

“You – you would still want to?”

Sokka stared resolutely into the fire, blushing a deep rose-red. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and raised his head to meet Zuko’s eyes.

“I – I could travel with you. I would like nothing more. If you would only let me.”

“It’s still dangerous Sokka.” Zuko insisted. “I’m not convinced this disguise is entirely effective, and if they ever find out that _I_ am the masked one – “

“Then I’ll wear a mask too. And if they find us, they’ll never know which of us is really the one they’re looking for.”

Sokka’s passionate insistence struck Zuko dumb, and he could do little more than stare, mouth dropped open in surprise. But Sokka did not recant his words. He stared back at Zuko, eyes blazing with firelight, jaw set firm, in open defiance of any argument Zuko might have.

Zuko thought back to their time together. The gentleness to his strength, his patience at his work, the kindness he had shown a man he had not yet known. He realized his admiration for Sokka was rooted deep within him now, growing quietly beneath the surface all this time and just now showing its face. It brought a smile to his face, knowing Sokka felt for him as well, but still he shook his head in disbelief.

“I’ll never understand you. I’ll never understand why you want this.” What Zuko really meant was that he could not understand why Sokka would want _him_ , but he had no stomach for the admission.

“Because. Because I’ve been travelling all my life, and I’ve never met anyone like you. And I’ve never met anyone I am even _half_ as fond of. And if I’m going to spend the rest of my life as an aimless wanderer, I think I might as well wander it with you.”

His words were so earnest that Zuko could never have done anything but believe him. He made no further attempt to dissuade him. In truth, he would welcome Sokka’s company. His charming laughter, his good spirits, his warm brown skin and handsome face. Zuko had always found him quite striking, and for good reason.

“Would you really wear a mask?” He asked at length. It seemed almost criminal, to hide such splendor.

“If you wanted me to? I would never take if off.”

Zuko smiled, broad and genuine.

“I’ll think about it.”

* * *

Zuko never did give Sokka a straight answer as to whether he would allow him to stay. But he didn’t stop him from travelling alongside him either. At first, Sokka hung back. If Zuko changed his mind, he didn’t want it to be know that he was close to the enigmatic masked one, lest someone take advantage of it, and put Zuko in danger. But as the months went by, he began to realize that Zuko had not intention of leaving him behind.

True to his word, Sokka created for himself his own mask, an exquisite wolf’s face of silver and gold and deep onyx. By the light of day all that was known of him was unusual blue eyes, and it suited him just fine. The growing legend of the masked travellers only helped their endeavours.

As the years went by their numbers grew. They hid nothing from their prospective companions, but found that few were put off by the idea of being hunted by the crown. Indeed, they responded by constructing masks of their own to wear and confuse the enemy. The ruse proved effective, and in time even Zuko could almost forget he was a wanted man, or indeed that he had ever been anything other than what he was. That he had ever done anything besides travel the northern wilds with the man he so loved on his arm seemed almost unfathomable.

In time, Sokka and Zuko were married. Sokka, as promised, wore his mask always. Always, that was, except when Zuko himself would remove it from his face, as he often would when they were alone, not nearly satisfied with the positively chaste kisses he was forced to place on his hand by raising it beneath his mask. And it could be said he gained a certain satisfaction from knowing that none besides himself would ever know how truly beautiful he was beneath that shining façade.

Even many years after they had grown old and passed away, the secretive troupe known to all as the Masked Ones still carried on. Still they wore their masks always, in honour of their founders, and told amongst them the legend of their deep devotion and love. It was the one story they would never share with the outside world for fear of spoiling it. And the one story they would cherish the most, for all the years to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading everyone! I hope you enjoyed this, even though I will admit, this is a pretty niche au. 
> 
> What I'm saying is everyone go read Deltora Quest and all the other Deltora books so I can make more aus about it!
> 
> Anyways for real, thanks for reading. I'd love to hear from you here or over on tumblr @backcountry-deltora!!


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